The Soul Sphere: Book 01 - The Shattered Sphere (35 page)

“The Dead make a formidable opponent,” Rowan said. “We have faced them in battle as well.”

“Then you all know what it’s like. But why do they do this? If Solek wants us to bend the knee, why does he not send a messenger to tell us so?”

“I think your suffering is what Solek wants, not your fealty. His armies have struck in all the kingdoms, and even in the goblin realm to the west. Never has he given terms for surrender.”

“Then what hope is there?”

“Whatever hope we can find or make for ourselves. As long as we breathe, we will fight him.”

“As will I,” the man responded, trying to draw himself up.

“Do you march to Bellford now?”

The man nodded, while a grim expression played across his face. “We’ll try to hold there as long as we can, to buy more time to build up the defenses around Upper Cambry.”

“Who commands at Bellford? The duke?”

“Duke Onsweys fell at Lower Cambry. The duchess rules now. Captain Sawdel commands in the field. He is already at Bellford, I imagine.”

“Captain Sawdel is a good man. He will slow the Legion as much as any man could.” Rowan turned to his companions. “We should stop at Bellford to speak with the captain. There may be traps and ambushes between here and Upper Cambry we’d best know of.” As he returned his attention to the soldier he saw one of the others whispering harsh advice in his ear, and looking at Rowan with unveiled contempt. This man had a ragged scar across one cheek, and nervous eyes that jittered about as he spoke.

“Keep your place,” the leader told him.

“Who are you to tell me what to do?” asked the man with the scar.

“I command here.”

The man laughed bitterly. “You can thank the Dead Legion for that. They killed a dozen men above you in rank in our company.”

“Which puts me in command. Now stand aside.”

“What’s the problem?” Rowan asked mildly.

“Dumfrey here’s the problem,” answered the leader. Dumfrey flushed but held his tongue, and the leader went on. “He’s not sure we should let you pass.”

This time when Rowan’s gaze returned to Dumfrey, the man’s tongue untangled. “You wear the red-and-white, that’s true enough, but there’s enough dead soldiers about that you could’ve gotten that anywhere. You travel with a goblin, an elf, a group of outlanders and a Mist. I noticed you haven’t stated your names. And we’re to let you walk right up to Bellford and Captain Sawdel. Might be you have a knife to plunge into his back. Might be you’re spies.” Dumfrey’s breath came short and sharp, as if he had just run a race.

Rowan calmly stated his name and introduced his fellow travelers.

“Blasey,” the leader said, tapping his chest with his index finger. “Sorry about Dumfrey. He’s a bit on edge.”

“We all are,” said Rowan.

“I still say we should take the horses and escort them to Bellford under guard,” Dumfrey said, no longer keeping his ideas between himself and Blasey. “Orstead thinks so, too.” He pointed at a young twig of a man, who had a sudden urge to study the ground.

“Orstead says what you tell him to say,” Blasey said curtly. “If you want to take them by force, you’re welcome to try it. They’re mounted, and I’ve heard a goblin with a warblade is as good as a dozen men. If Rowan doesn’t have your head now, Captain Sawdel will if he hears you’re attacking friends and fellow countrymen.”

A tense silence fell. Dumfrey licked his lips, looking at each rider in turn as if calculating the odds. The leer of battle-lust on Lucien’s face finally cowed him. He grumbled and stalked off by himself, calling for Orstead to follow. Orstead looked from the retreating back of his angry friend to Blasey, then folded his arms, indicating he was staying.

“He fights well and bravely,” Blasey said of Dumfrey. “If he’d shut up he might be commanding this little troupe of mine. I’ll beg forgiveness for him.”

“Don’t concern yourself. It is hard to know where one can put trust in these dark days. If we have your leave, we should press on.”

“Of course,” said Blasey, “but go slow and careful. That Mist will be seen as a signal that you are the enemy. Most of our archers have learned not to waste shots on the Dead at a distance—or even up close—but nervous hands may fire where calmer ones would not.”

“We’ll be careful,” said Rowan. “Good luck to you. Perhaps we’ll stand side-by-side against our common foe in the days to come.”

“The Savior go with you, Rowan of Delving,” Blasey replied. “I see the cross you wear, and that’s something the Dead won’t abide, even on their rotting uniforms. I saw a couple tear it off after they were freshly…converted. Like it burns them or something. Might make you a target for them though.”

Rowan smiled at that. “No more than any other living being. Farewell.”

They reached Bellford six days later. While the weather could not be termed warm, the snow that blanketed the northern half of Arkania diminished and then disappeared as they moved further south. The grass that took its place was a dull tan color, perhaps a sign of the sickness they had seen in the fall, but they could convince themselves it had simply gone dormant for the winter. They passed more men of Delving traveling on the road, and started to reach those posted as sentries, and while some greeted them roughly and thought as Dumfrey did, most were apt to recognize them as friends as Blasey had. The Mist remained an ever-present, silent partner on their journey.

A mile from Bellford the road and surrounding countryside was blocked with felled trees, and rough-hewn abatis were positioned to slow any hostile advance. Here the guards refused them passage into the city itself, although they agreed to send a rider of their own to bring Captain Sawdel out to speak with them. The captain did not make them wait long, the Mist that followed them indicating they were no ordinary travelers.

Sawdel was a stocky man just past his fiftieth year. His long, flowing locks of golden hair recalled his youth, while the lines stress had etched into his face indicated his position of authority in time of crisis. To Rowan’s surprise, Sawdel greeted him by name, and gave him a warm smile and a brotherly hug.

“I was not aware you knew me, sir,” Rowan admitted.

“Jabel spoke well of you, and pointed you out to me during several training exercises. Did you know I had requested you be transferred to my command? To serve on the King’s Guard?”

“No, sir. I am honored.”

“You earned it. But that seems a lifetime ago now. The king and the duke are gone, and the Dead march to crush what remains of Delving’s strength.” He looked suddenly at Rowan’s companions. “I have forgotten my manners. I am Captain Sawdel, in service to Delving and the Duchess Onsweys.”

After the introductions were made, Sawdel motioned at the Mist. “And your other friend?”

“An uninvited guest that joined us as we passed through Ridonia.”

“Any particular reason it is interested in your party?”

Rowan nodded once but said nothing.

Sawdel understood the unspoken message. “Let’s go toward the city a way where we can speak in private.”

At Sawdel’s signal an opening was made in the obstructions and the group proceeded slowly toward Bellford. Once they were several hundred yards away from the men who still worked furiously to stiffen the city’s outer defenses, Sawdel reined up his horse.

Rowan, Demetrius, and Tala spoke in turns, relating their quest and what had brought them to Bellford. Tala offered him the incomplete Sphere early in the tale, but he only eyed it warily and held up a hand as if to ward it off. Otherwise he listened to the tale with a neutral expression, no different than one he might have worn had they been describing how to construct a wooden shack or pave a road. When the story caught up to the present, he thought for a few moments before speaking, unconcerned with what others might perceive as indecision or uncertainty while the uncomfortable silence lingered. “So you believe the next shard is at Upper Cambry?”

“Far to the south,” said Tala. “Near the city but not in it.”

“And what do you wish of me?”

“Only your leave to go on,” said Rowan. “Provisions if you can spare them.”

“Provisions we will provide, although there is little enough to go around. I was hoping when I saw you that you would stay and fight with us. I now understand that is not your purpose, and that your quest must continue, but I do wonder if you turned back now whether the Legion might follow you rather than strike us.”

“Why do you think they would do that?”

“It might be coincidence that you need to move toward Upper Cambry, that a Mist follows you, and that the Legion comes as well. Then again, it may be that you are going where Solek wants you to go, and the Legion comes seeking you as a prize, rather than being concerned with the citizens of Delving.”

“Do you actually believe that?” Rowan asked, astonished. “That Solek has suddenly lost interest in destroying our people and cities?”

“No,” answered Sawdel without hesitation. “But if he has other priorities, it may give us more time to prepare. I will grant you passage regardless. If we have all the success we could hope for here it only delays Solek’s plans. Your success might mean his defeat. If I send you back and the Legion presses on, I’ve helped the enemy. Perhaps if you find the shard quickly and find yourselves led out of Delving next, the Legion may follow.”

“Solek raises the dead where he wills,” said Tala. “He need not chase us when he can call an army out of the ground before us. But he may see the peninsula as a place to trap us. If the Legion is pursuing us, it might be why he allows us to travel south before them.”

“We will hold here as long as we can if the Legion comes.” He turned his horse toward Bellford and beckoned them to follow. “I will write a letter granting you my protection. Go to the duchess and tell her what you’ve told me if it will not delay you too much.”

“We will,” said Rowan. “And thank you.”

While they rode on they spoke to Sawdel in more detail about the battle at Western City. Demetrius noticed a gleam in the captain’s eye when they related how the death of the head demon rider had defeated the entire army.

Tala noticed the look as well. “This is much closer to Veldoon. Solek may not need to channel his power here as he did at Western City.”

“I understand,” Sawdel said, “but if his power is not limitless then he can be beaten, and you have proven his power is not limitless. Perhaps we will have the chance to prove it again.”

They accepted Sawdel’s hospitality that evening in a large tent a mile from the city proper, Rowan in particular enjoying the chance to swap tales of happier days in Delving. While cares were at least lessened inside, the soldiers standing guard outside shivered at the sight of the Mist hovering above them. But early the next day the party set off again, letter in hand and packs filled with hard bread and cheese and dried meat.

The journey toward Upper Cambry was interrupted less by patrols than the approach to Bellford had been, only the occasional courier passing them on the road. Sawdel meant to hold at Bellford as long as possible, then fall back in stages toward Upper Cambry, fighting a delaying action. The weather grew warmer with each passing day, and even a gentle rain did not bring the chill they had grown used to in their travels. By the time the city of Upper Cambry came into view on the ninth day out of Bellford, their cloaks had been packed away for several days.

Upper Cambry rested on the shore of Humbold Bay, the inlet from the sea being another twenty miles to the southeast. It was a port and a trader town, and was defended by a twenty foot high ring wall and an inner wall of the same height, both made of the white stone common in the region and bleached even further by the seemingly ever-present sun. The city itself was compact, a central castle surrounded by several smaller buildings and tightly packed dwellings. The port and the marketplace where merchants displayed their wares were located outside of the city walls, and these were now quieter than usual; those venturing there kept one eye on business and the other on the lookout for signs of trouble approaching from either the north or the sea.